Vegas: Epilogue

REFERRAL DAY!!!

When I left off, I was telling you how we had moved up to #1 on the waiting list. And we were only on the waiting list for about 4 weeks. But this time period fell over the holidays, and the stress of being childless for yet another holiday season was taking its toll. On Tuesday, Nov. 22, 2005, I was filled with anxiety all day. At the time I thought it was just because I really thought we would have a referral by Thanksgiving. Then 1 week into December, we got a message from the Nancys that involved the holiday schedule. I interpreted from the message that one of the Nancys would be leaving the country after Dec. 9, therefore no new news would be forthcoming. So in my mind, it was either news on Dec. 9, or no news until January (I found out later that I was wrong about that information, but it is funny how all this came into play). So when Friday, Dec. 9 rolled around, I took a personal day from work knowing I could not sit there all day waiting with a potential breakdown at the end of the day. The chaos that resulted will never completely be captured, but I will try my best.

Picture me sitting home all day in my pajamas nearing the depths of despair. Picture my poor mother doing everything in her power to keep me from tumbling over the edge. She brought me food, she had my little brother call me from New York...but alas, I was inconsolable. At some point she forced me to call Nancy, and I left her what I'm sure is an award winning pitiful voicemail. Sometime in the interval, Holly and Michelle arrived (I think they were coming to WP for our BFF Christmas get together). Bless their hearts, they too were now on cheer up duty. But a funny thing happened. Not long after they arrived, Nancy called back.

Tiny side note: You know when you wait and wait and wait for something, and you imagine how it will be, and then when it happens it's nothing like you thought it would be? Yeah.

So Nancy asks me, "Have you gotten a package?" To which I say through many layers of emotion, "AM I SUPPOSED TO BE GETTING A PACKAGE TODAY?!?" I don't know what snafu occurred, but they had not called us when they were supposed to. So she starts telling me about our baby boy! "I'm looking at a photo of your baby boy. He's sleeping...he's sleeping really hard!" And she gives me what details she has, and I'm writing them on some random blue envelope, and my audience is listening and waiting on pins and needles. So when I hang up with her I can't turn and start telling them everything because DOUG IS NOT THERE! He was still at work. So I call him and start yelling and crying and who knows what else. And here is where the true chaos starts. I have no idea if I called Erica or if someone else did, but she immediately called Scott and he brought balloons by. And now we're waiting for the UPS truck to bring the referral packet because it has the pictures in it! And just a short time passes and we see the UPS truck coming!

But in a cruel joke from fate, it did not stop at our house. So my mom chased it down the street! Yes, she did! But no, there was no packet for us on the truck. And then Scott is calling and trying to track the package...

...and finds out that the package is snowed in in Kentucky. Really?!? Is this really happening. Down, up, down, up...emotional overload! So I finally come to some kind of calm about not getting the package until Monday, and the celebrating began!



Here is our "Primera Navidad De Bebe" ornament, which we could now hang on our tree!

Rollercoaster...of Emotion! I am so thankful for all the people who took part in referral day! It was so wonderfully insane that I had no idea William was there until I saw him in one of the above pictures! HA!

Wait until you hear what happened with that packet...

FINALS!

Hey, all. I had a final paper due in SW on Tuesday, and I have a comprehensive final in Stats tomorrow morning. And it's my busy time at work. So, I'll be back soon!

Transforming into 4

Here is a rundown of all the nice gifts Elliott received for his 4th birthday:

• 4 gifts for turning 4: Big Bumblebee, Transformers tennis shoes, Toy Story bilingual book, dry erase board writing set...and the 4 Transformer vehicles on the cake (Mami and Daddy)
  
• Two shirts, pants and John Deere boots! (Granna and Big Daddy)
  
• First season of cartoon Transformers on DVD (Uncle Terry, Aunt Shea, Jackson and Carson)
• Hooded coat (Uncle Grady and Aunt Norma)
• Bumblebee talking helmet (Uncle Kyle and Andrea)
  
• $20 (Granny)
• Peter Pan snow globe from Disney World (Grandmommy and Big John)
• Transformer fishing pole (Papi, Aunt Penny, Kitty and Corgan)
• Army PT t-shirt (Uncle Jeb)
• Transformer Sentinel Prime (Dalton)
  
• Green bucket of Legos (Riley)
• Spiderman activity fun case (Uncle Jack, Aunt Kathy, Jack III, William, Daniel and Augustine)
• Big package of cars (Uncle Joe, Aunt Angela, Justice and AJ)
  
• $20 Granddaddy
• John Deere mower and $5 in card (Grandma and Grandpa)
  

Thanks, everyone!

It might not grow on trees, but how about in flowers?

I failed to mention that beginning in late June 2005 I started working for my friend Scott at his flower shop on Saturdays to earn extra money. My first day there a very alarming weakness was exposed: I can't tie balloons. I have never been able to twist that itty bitty remaining piece of latex around my fingers into a knot. But after numerous demonstrations that day (he deserves sainthood for so many reasons, and this is one of them), I finally conquered balloon tying!

My favorite duties there were the manual labor ones and not the creatives ones; my creativity is severely limited. This worked out well as every other employee there has hated washing buckets, cleaning out the cooler, etc. I loved doing those things. I think it was like the change rolling -- I felt like I was doing something, earning my way toward my baby if you will.

A unique situation presented itself while I was working there. I have always wanted to be as good as Erica at giving "happies" when someone needs one. And while I worked at the flower shop, I had a short lived time of being that person. And it felt so good! I gave more gifts during that 10-11 months than maybe ever combined ;). The benefit, of course, was a feeling of doing good for others combined with taking my mind off the "woe is I, I'm ready for my baby" sob fest.

Side note: I don't say this to brag, but to emphasize that even though I had become obsessed with financing this adoption, I didn't totally lose sight of reality and others who had been so generous to us. We were making so much from our yard sales that I started to feel really guilty about it. So three times Mom and I took part of the profits to other family members who either had medical bills or desperately needed a vacation.

The funny thing is, at the end of my time working for Scott, I think I only cleared $500. But he gave me the opportunity to save my sanity. Thank you, Scott.

All of this to say that when we found out we were #1 on the waiting list (!!!) a few weeks after getting on it in November 2005, Scott and Katie sent me a snowman ornament to work in celebration. In less than a week I will hang that ornament on our tree, like I have every year, and I will always cherish the friends who sent it.

Happy 4th Birthday, Baby Boy!

On Tuesday, November 22, 2005, I was filled with an unexplainable anxiety all day at work. I would find out 2 weeks later that my baby boy was born that day 2000 miles away. My heart knew, it just couldn't translate it to my mind.

On Wednesday, November 22, 2006, Doug and I both took off work to spend the whole day with Elliott.

On Thursday, November 22, 2007, we celebrated Thanksgiving on Elliott's birthday.

On Saturday, November 22, 2008, for the first time we were able to have his birthday party on his actual birthday.

And today, Sunday, November 22, 2009, we are spending a leisurely day celebrating his 4th birthday. My cup runneth over.

Last night I found a website for birth verses. Here is Elliott's:

“Have faith in God,” Jesus answered. (Mark 11:22 NIV)

Amen.

Rest in Peace, Poco

Sad, sad, sad, sad, so very sad. As Elliott and I were pulling in the driveway after lunch, I ran over our outside cat, Poco. We've had Poco for 8 years. And she has always run toward my car when I get home. But today I stopped halfway up the driveway, I think to turn and listen to something Elliott was saying, and when I started forward again I felt that horrible bump. I saw her run off, so I was hoping maybe I had just run over her leg. I left Elliott strapped in his carseat, ran and got the kennel, and as I was trying to load her into it she curled herself into an unnatural shape. She died en route to the vet. Tears.

My sweet daddy buried her in the back lot of the Co-op, and Elliott assisted. I did what I do best: cried and drowned my pain in sweets.

This is the second November in this house that we've lost a cat. Next November I'm sending Priss and Phillip on vacation.

Vegas Day 4: Au Revoir!

I woke on Saturday tired and with a heavy heart. I had not won big in Vegas. I would be returning not with a financial reprieve but with increased debt. Sigh. But I would be returning to my guys who I missed terribly.

Each time I've left NYC I've always thought, "Until we meet again!" But as we headed to the airport I thought, "So long, Vegas! Been there, done that, not coming back!"

On the last leg of the plane home, the others were sleeping, and I was left alone with my to do list for the coming week and my thoughts. The elephant on my chest had returned. When I looked in the mirror when we landed, my chest had broken out in a rash for the second day in a row. The previous afternoon had been while everyone else rested between activities, and again I was left alone with my thoughts. It seems I'm now able to externalize that elephant.

Back to life, back to reality...(sing the 80s song with me!)

What is important, though, is that I can look back on this milestone birthday and know that I spent it with my amazing best friends. Ladies, we'll always have Paris...I mean, Vegas.

I love you all. Thank you.

Vegas Day 3: Slots of Fun

Friday was a big day for us. After sleeping in just a bit, we headed over to Caesar's to eat an early lunch at (Bobby Flay's) Mesa Grill. After checking out the menu but while waiting for it to open, I stopped at a $1 slot machine...

Sidebar #1: When I was in the 1st grade, my dad won a trip to Las Vegas, and I believe it was from a rat poison promo. He and my mom brought me back a slot machine pencil sharpener that really spun! I loved that thing. I wish I knew what I did with it. Anyhoo, he told the story about the Aberdeen manager walking by a $1 slot machine on the way to the bathroom, stopping briefly to put in a $1 and winning $100. I've always loved that story.

Sidebar #2: On Thursday night, Michelle was kind enough to accompany me around Paris and Bally's playing my mom's $20 (with no luck). I kept getting confused about which kind of machine we were playing, and when I happened to win a few credits here and there I would always ask Michelle, "How much did I just win?" to which she usually replied, "$4."

...Michelle tried to talk me out of losing my $1 in one spin. But I just took out that crisp $1 and hit the button. And lo and behold, three 7s. And the credits started racking up, and Michelle started getting excited, and I again said, "How much did I just win?" To which Michelle yelled, "$100!" immediately followed by Holly, "CASH OUT!" Which I did with a huge grin on my face. It was an amazing 30-second high. But, I do have to say that I hate that you get a ticket and not money back out of the machine. I sauntered over to the bill exchanger, put in my ticket, took that wonderfully crisp $100 from the machine, held in it my hands for five seconds with the biggest, stupidest grin on my face...and then turned and handed it to Michelle to pay on my airfare and hotel bill that I owed her. I wish I had a picture of the look on her face. It was awesome. Complete disbelief. Now, I have to confess that I had been dreaming of winning big in Vegas for weeks. No, not $100 big, B-I-G. So I had daydreamed about how I was going to spend it. And then I had downgraded the daydream to a lesser amount, and in that daydream I realized that the first thing I needed to do was pay back Michelle. So I had contemplated this move in advance of winning. It was a complete no brainer. And boy it was fun.

After a delicious lunch at Mesa Grill and browsing around the high end shops at Cesar's, we headed back to our hotel to get gussied up to go see Cirque du Soleil's "O" at the Bellagio. We looked so good that we actually got offered free tickets to clubs multiple times! That show was FANTASTIC! Still kinda like being on drugs, but much more my drugs of choice, ha! On the way out, we heard what presumably was a pimp or at least a sleazy promoter ask the guys behind us if they wanted to go to a strip club. I heard them reply with a very refreshing nope. The others went on to tell me later that these same guys had been talking about algorithms. Tee hee. More to come on this.

We stopped back by the hotel to change (apparently we can only be divas for a short amount of time), but before we headed back upstairs I was bound and determined I was going to play roulette. All day, and maybe part of the day before, I had decided that Black 22 was a winner. And I also decided I had to play while dressed up because that was part of the magic. Go with it. So I nervously approached the table after some consideration, handed over my $20, got 4 chips, placed 2 on Black 22 and 2 on Red 21. The wheel spun, the little ball went around and around, and that little bugger landed on 0. BUT, let the record show that at least 3 tables in the vicinity had hit Black 22 within the last 3 spins. So my instinct about the day and the number were right. I just chose the wrong time and table. Total bummer.

Next we got on The Deuce, a double-decker bus, to head down to Freemont Street. The bus took FOREVER. I had reached a zone of bleh, so I wasn't chatting up my seatmate, a regular ole' guy of about mid 50. His female friend, who was sitting in front of Michelle and Erica, asked him what the name of the bus was on Harry Potter. Well, I couldn't resist piping up, which led us into conversation. When I obligingly asked him why he was in Vegas and he answered for a math conference, Michelle and Erica simultaneously shouted out, "AHA!" They now had an explanation for the dudes earlier talking about algorithms over strippers. As he and his homies were getting off the bus, we heard one woman say to another, "Oh, you must be one of us; you're wearing Pi earrings!" I must be cooler than I previously thought.

Freemont Street was a complete bust as far as I was concerned. It's like the white trash cousin of the Vegas' strip, and that ain't saying much since Vegas is in fact Sin City. But we did get a cheap midnight supper at the Golden Nugget's cafe before getting back on The Deuce. If we thought the first ride was bad, boy were we in for a rude awakening. The ride back had obnoxious, smelly drunk people. Ick.

During this time I was talking to Julianna on the phone hoping we could meet up since she was in Vegas to celebrate her birthday. I was disappointed that our timing was off, but I did feel good knowing she was so close :).

Vegas Day 2: 6156 is the Mark of the Devil

I woke up very tired and feeling very badly on Thursday morning. I started my day by popping Ibuprofen, Sudafed and another dose of Tamiflu...on an empty stomach. Shouldn't have been too much of a surprise that when I smelled the food downstairs that I got sick. Back to bed for me while the others ventured out for half price tickets for that night (dang you, Wayne Brady, for cancelling on us!). In retrospect, I think I had the advantage sleeping while they did all that walking. Thanks, girls!

We met up for lunch at Le Buffet (roll eyes), which I thought was good but I think I was in the minority on that one. Then again, me and massive amounts of food are always good. Next up, The Price is Right Live, a non-televised version of the show with a different host and announcer. Very fun even though none of us got to come on down :(. We were all set to have our picture made with the beauties after the show (Gail, the blonde, is from the Memphis/Tunica area), but the random older lady who was going to take it was not exactly camera savvy. As she is splitting our picture into two shots (yeah, because we're going to piece them together later? come on lady), Erica goes, "Aw, geeeez." Might not sound funny in print, but trust me, it was hilarious.

A little gambling, a roller coaster ride for Holly and Erica, and more walking later, and we decided to go to In-N-Out Burger for an early dinner before our 7:30 show. Unfortunately, we couldn't find a walking route, so we hopped in a cab. THE CAB FROM HELL. Now, the night before on the way to Rosemary's, Erica had been up front with the young cab driver who had absolutely no desire to talk with her or expound on her questions. On the way back from Rosemary's, Michelle was able to have a nice conversation with that driver. So when I got in the front and this cabbie started chatting me up, I thought all was well. I COULD NOT HAVE BEEN MORE WRONG. This &!@# started out by saying that us taking a cab to get a burger was "a dumbass" waste of his vehicle. Yep he did. But I thought he was just a gruff old man like so many I'd met, so I was just laughing him off. But when I was collecting quarters in lieu of no $1's to tip him (MORE THAN 20% I MIGHT ADD), he started mouthing off about not wanting to hear any change because we were not in Mississippi anymore. Oh yes he did, he insulted our intelligence and our state. So then Erica tipped him $0.30 in payment to his rudeness. Well dear heavens, he started mouthing off. I had heard enough from him so I just walked off. THAT MAN THEN PHYSICALLY BLOCKED HOLLY AND MICHELLE'S PATH AND LECTURED THEM. Just writing this has my blood pressure through the roof. I had every intention of calling the cab company and reporting him, but every time I thought about it my blood pressure spiked.

After recovering from this ordeal and enjoying the only cheap meal of our trip, we went to see Blue Man Group at the Venetian. Halfway through the show I turned to Erica and said, "I think this is what it's like to be on drugs."

Vegas Day 1: Le Annoying

Super early Wednesday morning we headed to the airport, where I was delighted to run into the Robbins. A few minutes later I was not so delighted when the button popped off my blue jeans in the bathroom. With my belts in my checked luggage and no safety pin to be found, I had to walk around half the day with my pants poking out. Beautiful.

On the plane, Erica had a bad bout of motion sickness, and my sinuses threatened to explode. Holly and Michelle kept up the momentum of being the normal people on the trip :)

Luckily our flights were like clockwork, and we arrived in Vegas on time. Courtney, Holly's sister, arrived pretty close on schedule also, and we hopped into the shuttle to head to the hotel. Total bummer, the advertisement on the shuttle completely blocked our view out the windows. Grumble.

We arrived at the Paris hotel and were met with a haze of cigarette smoke and Le Concierge, Le Toilettes, Le Journal, Le Buffet...LE GIVE ME A BREAK. We dumped our stuff and headed out to see the Bellagio fountain show across the street. "One" from A Chorus Line is still stuck in my head, but it is really cool. Next we hit up some stores before changing and grabbing a cab off-strip to Rosemary's Restaurant: http://www.rosemarysrestaurant.com/. Thank you, Michelle, you Frommers freak, for this amazingly delicious find. YUM!!

After a long day of traveling, we were all ready to hit our beds early. So when two of my coworkers called and woke me up at a ridiculously early time, I had to save face by saying I was sick. Which was true in that I had a head cold and had taken lots of Sudafed to fly and Tamiflu (and apparently that wine at dinner with those meds wasn't such a good idea). I would write about the sleep ping-pong match that occurred between Erica and me during the night, but that would result in a breech of contract.

Vegas: Prologue

I interrupt this adoption story to bring you the tales of Vegas. Have no fear, you can click on "adoption" at the bottom of any post and all the entries will be together for your reading pleasure.

A couple of years ago Holly, Michelle, Erica and I decided we wanted to take a trip to celebrate our 30th birthdays. We planned to do it in 2010 when 3 of us turn 30 (Michelle is a few days shy from being in 2010). But when we started researching, we found a deal to Vegas that expired this month. So there you go, Vegas in November to celebrate.

We were scheduled to fly out of Jackson on Wednesday, Nov. 11. Since it was an early flight, Erica and I planned to go down on Tuesday night. On Monday night, Elliott started running fever. Please note that Elliott had not been sick in a year and a half -- no joke. But let me have a trip planned that I could not get my money back on, and bam, sick. I took him to the doctor on Tuesday...FLU. OMG, I was so upset. What do I do? Do I stay and lose out on the money and on the celebratory trip? Do I go and feel like the worst mother ever? After MUCH crying and talking with lots of people, and with Doug assuring me I should go, I finally got in the van with Erica and headed to Jackson. Boy that was hard.

Insert private joke: Emily's Tamiflu

When we got to Jackson we headed to a costume jewelry store to get fancy for Vegas. With some baubles selected, we climbed back in the van...only to climb right back out. Flat tire. Many thanks to the kind gentleman who assisted us, though we all feel quite confident Michelle could have saved us pansies. Michelle came up with a plan for dropping the van at a tire store and leaving the key in the drop box. As Erica began to show the first signs of calming down, WHAM! New problem...iPhone locked in the van, the keys now held hostage in the tire store drop box. But our girl is industrious, and thanks to a good ole' pop-a-lock service, the phone was rescued!

To recap, we have one member of the crew with overwhelming mommy guilt for leaving her sick child, and one member who has had a flat tire, left her van to total strangers, and paid to have her phone rescued. Nothing Xanax-induced sleep can't correct!

Waiting to Wait

So now there is no other paperwork for me to do, there is only the waiting for the 171-H to come in the mail. I've finished my master's degree, so there is no homework to distract me. There is only my coins to roll and my stress to build ;). We were literally waiting to wait at this point since we still were not officially on the waiting list for a referral.

At the very end of October, it came! Oh a regular piece of paper has never looked so good! After getting it to the agency, we officially made it onto the waiting list at the beginning of November 2005. The next phase of waiting began. This time, instead of waiting on a piece of paper, we were waiting on the referral. And with the holidays approaching, my anxiety started climbing again.

CHARLESTON?!?

It's a little impossible for me to tell the story 100% in chronological order since it has been 4 years...OMG, it's been 4 years. Wow. I entertained for about 1.5 seconds the thought that a blog 4 years ago to chart the journey would have been fantastic. And then I quickly realized I probably would have gotten arrested because I can visualize me Photoshop'ing certain peoples heads onto Wanted posters. Shew, dodged that bullet.

At the end of August 2005, I was headed to an annual conference I helped to coordinate. This particular meeting used to rotate locations all around the South. And of all the meetings I had to attend, this one sucked the least. In 2005 it was located in Charleston, and as I had been to Charleston in 2002 with Holly (a story that begs to be told another day), I knew it was a cool city. So I was fairly excited (read as: not depressed and crying) that Sunday morning when I checked in at the GTR airport. And I am not even making up what comes next, I promise. I checked in, handed over my baggage and started walking toward the restroom. And stopped dead in the middle of the GTR airport with a look of complete shock on my face. And the following is a close representation of what occurred in my brain: CHARLESTON?!? I'M GOING TO CHARLESTON?!? CHARLESTON AS IN THE LOCATION OF THE NANCYS?!? OMG!!! I CAN GO SEE THE NANCYS!!! I don't know how in the world it had not occurred to me before then that I would be getting this chance. I guess I was a tiny bit stressed. But oh how excited I was! So on Monday or Tuesday of that week, I ducked out of the meeting at break and WALKED SEVERAL BLOCKS to the office. And there I met my Nancys!

I got our red bracelets from their office that day, and we wore those bracelets without taking them off until Friday, May 5, 2006.

Mrs. Batman, Postal Worker

After reading my previous entry, Sara called me this morning to remind me about, and I quote, "the excessive mailbox checking," that I forced her to do in the fall of 2005. After my OH YEAH! moment, now I can't stop being amused at both of us.

At this point we are waiting on the 171-H to come from USCIS so that we can officially be put on the waiting list. We had nothing left to do ourselves. And I am out of my mind waiting for that piece of paper. So, I imposed upon Sara, who was working in West Point at the time, to go by my house every day at lunch and look in the mailbox. I'm wondering how many weeks this went on? (And I'm chuckling.) My thought being I didn't have to torture myself all day if it wasn't in there, and if it was in there I could go home and get it! I grew tired of waiting very quickly, and I pulled out the big guns. The only way to check the status of this paperwork is to contact your Congressman's office. You can imagine how lengthy a phone call that is being transfered and put on hold and what have you. I finally got a very nice and competent lady on the phone, and here came that bitch slap I've been yammering about:

Ma'am, your (official) homestudy did not reach USCIS until [insert date here that I have blocked from my mind to protect my own sanity and those responsible].

I was in complete shock. Our waiting had only begun due to the delivery by our homestudy agency of the paperwork WELL PAST when I thought it had been sent. OH I can still feel the slap across my face. And it still hurts. BUT, I have to remember that God's plan is HIS plan. Not mine. And in retrospect, had we made it unto the list earlier, we would have been refered a child other than Elliott. Because my dear baby would not be born until Nov. 22. So wait we did.

And, Sara, thank you.

Dossier Queen

After officially contracting with our international agency, which has offices in NC & SC, and meeting by phone with the intake counselor, it was finally time to begin working with the Guatemala team: the Nancys. One, a native Spanish speaker, was the program director and communicated with the lawyers and facilitators in Guatemala. The other one was the case manager and dealt with us families and supervised our dossier preparation. And let me just tell you, they are both fantastic, but the latter Nancy was a gift sent to me directly from God. I can be a little high-strung (several of you just fell out of your chairs laughing at this understatement), and she could handle me effortlessly. It was like she had caller ID, could see it was me and would give herself a pep talk before pulling on the white gloves and effortlessly handling me. She had the amazing ability to talk me down without it ever feeling patronizing. Dang she is good. She gave me a valuable piece of advice:

Emily, there are lots of times when the paperwork will not be in your hands, and there will be nothing you can do. So when that paperwork is in your hands, do everything you can do. Be efficient; don't sabotage yourself.

Ok, that is of course slightly paraphrased, but the message is there. And you are probably saying what person in her right mind who wants a baby SO BADLY would sabotage her own paperwork? But I have seen it happen with my own eyes (not me). So honey, I took her advice 100% to heart. Not to mention that as I've previously told you I was all about checking off those steps. So when they gave me access to the online dossier planner, I was like an Olympic runner! I was out of the blocks in no time!

At this point in the story we are into July 2005. And you should know that with very few exceptions, my family has gone to Panama City Beach, FL, in July every year of my life. This year was one of those exceptions. My younger brother was starting his freshman year at USMA the following month, and he had already had to report to boot camp in NY the previous month. Due to several factors surrounding him leaving, we decided not to go on vacation that year. But I took the entire week off anyway and devoted the entire week to gathering documents as part of the dossier. There is only so much you can do on your lunch hour when you work in one town and live in another. When I finished with all of the parts of the dossier that I could control, I proudly sent it to my Nancy. And then she rewarded me with the following:

I think that is the fastest I've ever seen a dossier put together.

Music to my competitive and formerly Type A ears. Aaah, it still makes me puff out my chest and smile. The only remaining piece was the 171-H that had to come from USCIS...the aforementioned bitch slap will be coming up soon.

Pause

As you can see, I had to pause the adoption story when Elliott got the flu immediately followed by me leaving for Vegas. I will continue the adoption story and tell the Vegas story as soon as I get a grip on reality again. Which needs to be soon because I don't have time to have a breakdown right now. Seriously, I don't have any vacation time left...ba dum dum dum. Thank you, I'll be here all week, and I gladly accept tips.

ZigZag and Back Again

At the beginning of the process, there are actually a few varieties on how you can begin the process. In my research I've found that different agencies list the first few steps slightly different from each other. And each strategy will work, it just depends on which agency you are working with. For instance, we had already contracted with our homestudy agency by the time we contracted with our international agency. And for them, that was slightly out of order. No harm, no foul because we were still early enough along in the homestudy.

Ok, so the two agencies had to sign an interagency agreement. Then, while the homestudy was still in process, we had to apply with United States Citizenship and Immigration Services. Here is the tricky part. You have to send in the I-600A form early enough in the homestudy process that it can be processed simultaneously so that you do not waste time. But, if you get it there too early, you may still lose time because you cannot get your fingerprinting appointment until the homestudy is complete. These interwoven steps still stress me out. So being at my most motivated and efficient ever, I was checking off the steps. And when we got our letter from USCIS with our appointment to come get fingerprinted, I was elated. At that point, we thought the homestudy was ~90% complete. The report was written, but it had not been passed off to the state director to move along the path. I don't know, just go with it. So anyway, we were allowed to bring an unofficial copy with us that day to Memphis (I'm thinking this was mid June 2005). And poor Doug, here is a great example of me charging along completing the steps while he just did as I said. He just went with the momentum. So I guess all I ever said was, "We're going to get fingerprinted in Memphis." I guess I never went into complete detail about it being at USCIS. So when we pulled up and his comment was, "Whoa, there sure are a lot of foreign people here," I just about died. Now it's extremely funny.

When we left Memphis that day, I was on Cloud 9. I was feeling so good about how fast we were jumping through the hoops. The next step was to wait for the all powerful 171-H form back from USCIS. This is THE form that gets you onto the waiting list! And it takes a long time to get. So the next step during that time is to prepare the dossier, which is the packet that goes to the country. Here is where you need a tip from someone who has been there, done that. Request the list of needed documents for the dossier while you are doing your homestudy. There is no reason to have to request your birth certificate from the state office more than once. Sheesh, people.

Next up: Dossier Queen and one heck of a bitch slap.

The Homestudy

You know the drums you always hear on movies before someone is executed? Imagine that sound when you read, HOMESTUDY. It is a source of great anxiety for adoption newbies. And rightly so. Most homestudies involve four meetings with a social worker: meeting as a couple, meeting with just the dad, meeting with just the mom, and then, the dreaded home visit. Oh yeah, and TONS of paperwork to fill out between meetings, such as writing your own biography and filling out a financial worth statement. The home visit is by far the scariest part to everyone I've ever talked to. To have someone come into your home and say whether or not it's "good enough" and safe enough for a child is overwhelming. And here is an area where I have never been successful in letting go of some of my anger. I know why it is necessary, but it feels really unfair. But there is no need dwelling on it, so I'll keep moving.

It's amazing the silly things we all do to prepare our houses for any event. Think about the extra preparations you may take for a birthday party or to host a jewelry party. It's like that amount of work but on crack. For instance, I bought new throw pillows for my couches and had the nursery woman at the Co-op fix my planters for the front porch. Yeah, because pillows and flowers make all the difference in a house, ha! Ok, so general information aside, here are the specifics.

We started working with our state homestudy agency before we contracted with our international agency. I guess I should stop and explain that your homestudy has to be conducted by a licensed social worker in your state, but you can use an international agency located anywhere in the country. Our social worker was located in Starkville, though she was contracting for the office in Jackson. Anyway, she was the sweetest lady and really put us at ease. We were always happy with her during the process. However, the higher ups in Jackson kept me stressed. To me, and yes I was overly emotionally for sure, they were very slow and very inefficient overall. At one point we actually had to make a call, through a friend, to the chief lady at the agency to get things moving. I probably needed a t-shirt to wear at all times that said, "You get in my way, I'll steamroll right over you."

Hello? (tap, tap) Is This Thing On?

Anybody out there?

Cattle Collateral

The money! The money! Now might be a good time to report that I had been putting $125 of each paycheck (bi-monthly) directly into the savings account each month. Not sure how long I had been doing that. We also received several extremely generous gifts from family members over the coming months, each a few hundred dollars.

So even though I was getting pumped up to do fundraisers, I knew we had to be able to come up with the large payments when the agency required them. So my dad and I headed to the bank. My dad co-signed for us, and yep, you guessed it, his cows were our collateral. How hysterical is that? We were able to get a balloon note that we could withdraw money from in increments. We did not have to pay monthly payments on it in the beginning. After one year, we paid off the interest (with our tax refund) and were able to renew it for one more year. At the end of the second year we were once again able to pay off the interest with our tax refund, and then we set it up on payments. Like a car payment. Yes, this is our reality.

The first fundraiser we did was "Pennies and Prayers." We took clear jars, attached a scrap of baby fabric (bought in the discount bin), and handed them out to our families and friends. We asked for their pennies from their pocket change, but mostly for their prayers. Holy moly was this ever successful! I am still so humbled not only by how many people contributed (all pocket change, not just pennies), but by how excited and involved everyone got. I think they got excited about it because it gave them an active role in our amazing journey. You know the African proverb that says, "It takes a village to raise a child;" well, for us it also took a village to bring our child home. And I wouldn't have had it any other way.

One unexpected side benefit of these change jars was a much needed distraction for me: ROLLING COINS! I am not kidding, not even a little bit, when I tell you how much I loved rolling those coins. And no, it wasn't because I had become obsessed with money. It gave me something real and active to do. I rolled coins and rolled coins and rolled coins; I think it might have actually saved me from a complete breakdown! HA. Occasionally some innocent bystander would suggest that I take the loose change to the bank to roll. Poor fool.

The next fundraiser was a lot more work, but returned a larger profit faster. I kept reading about doing yard sales for fundraisers. And I kept scoffing to myself that a small yard sale wouldn't be very profitable. And then one day it hit me. I had the answer! A yard sale on steroids. See, not long before that, my dad and his youngest brother had inherited my great-grandmother's apartment house (side note: Doug and I lived there from Jan 2001 - March 2002). And my dear Nana, she was a HOARDER. Not that I blame her having lived through the Depression as a single mother. So anyway, there was tons of crap being stored in her old beauty shop in the apartment house. And my family was very much dreading dealing with all that stuff. So I proposed to invest sweat equity to organize it into a yard sale in exchange for the profits. I just wish we had taken a before picture. The piles were 5 feet tall in the entire space except for a narrow and treacherous path. On top of all that stuff, we started taking donations for the yard sale. My mother was not so enthusiastic about the donations as we already had so much crap to deal with. But I was so excited and so thankful! I couldn't say no once the momentum got going. We had FIVE yard sales (I think), and we lost track of how much we made. The bad news? We still have crap left.

So now we had a loan, the blessings from our family and friends were rolling in, and I was rolling coins to keep my sanity. Go do some stretches and get ready to jump through some hoops!

Wait a Minute, You Mean We Need Real Money?!?

You may have noticed that I write "I" a lot in this story. Let me take a minute to explain a little something that I think a lot of women can relate to, whether you are an adoptive mom, a biological mom, or a future mom. Most of the guys I know don't have a plan for kiddos; well, not a concrete, detail-oriented plan. They don't take a whole lot of time to think about timelines and all the implications of timing and planning. Again, true for pregnancy, true for adoption planning. With most of the couples I know, the ladies do the planning, present the plan to their guys, and then the guys get on board. So, just to clear that up.

Anyhoo, we had passed go, but we did not get to collect $200. And boy were we going to need it. Backtracking for just a moment, we received an amazing gift in December 2004. Two dear friends showed up one night before Christmas with a card and $500 that was from a collection of friends. HUMBLED does not even begin to describe what we felt. We were amazed by the power of friendship and God in our life. And I believe a not so subtle push to conquer what often felt like an unconquerable journey. We could do this because we had amazing people pushing us forward. And most importantly, it was God's plan.

For the longest time I had a hand-written note on our fridge with the following Scripture:

"And my God shall supply all your need according to His riches in glory by Christ Jesus." --Phil 4:19

So for a long time, as stupid as it sounds, I could focus on the journey and not on the money it was going to take to make the adoption possible. It was kind of like running full force, straight ahead while plugging my ears and going, "NAH, NAH I CAN'T HEAR YOU! WE CAN DO THIS!" and then one day I ran smack into a tree. I'm pretty sure it was the day we received the packet from our international agency with actual monetary amounts and deadlines. Holy crap, after all that research, the reality of coming up with $30,000 was HEAVY. But somehow, I managed to keep putting one foot in front of the other down the path. The downside was that I became obsessed with the thought of the money. You remember that scene near the end of Vegas Vacation where Sid Caesar's character wins and he starts going, "The money! The money! The money is mine!" Ok, well that was me except it was more like, "The money! The money! I have to find the money! The money is not mine!" Cue more research. So after first scoffing at the ideas that seemed so unsophisticated and low revenue, I finally said let's give it a go. And when I put my mind to fundraising, I really put my mind to it. Stay tuned.

We Passed Go

I have this image of Doug and I in tiny, plastic form on a gameboard as I try to take you chronologically through this amazing journey. How cute would that be? HA!

So where was I? Right, May 2005 and first piece of paperwork. That paperwork involved contracting with a state agency to conduct our homestudy. We still had not chosen our international agency, even though we now knew we wanted to adopt from Guatemala. So, more research! I was really digging a KY agency, but they only worked with Guatemala and China, and a co-worker who was also adopting at that time advised us to choose an agency that worked with more than one country. Wise advice because if a country ever closes, you can switch within the same agency to another country program. So since we were not eligible for China, I sadly had to give up on the idea of the KY agency. I had participated in at least one conference call with another agency, and I just couldn't find an agency that felt like the right fit. One Monday at Wrestling Night (that is a whole other story), Brock mentioned that Steven Curtis Chapman had some kind of adoption organization. So I checked into it. Founded by the Chapmans, Shaohannah's Hope, http://www.showhope.org/, is a movement to care for orphans. The organization gives grants to needy adoptive couples and has a large movement to start adoption ministries in churches. I can in no way explain it to the degree it deserves, so check it out. They do amazing work. But anyway, they have a list of agencies they recommend. And after researching those, that is how I finally found our agency!

Next up: The hoops begin, and I become obsessed with money.

In the Beginning

It makes sense to start our adoption story at the beginning, but what is the beginning? Is the beginning when I poured over my mom's Ladies Home Journal when I was a little kid, enthralled with an article about a little girl adopted from China? Or is our beginning when on our second date Doug shared with me that he is adopted? I don't subscribed to the idea that our beginning involves a doctor's office. Only God knows the beginning to our story. So I shall attempt to begin at the starting line of action.

Between 2002 and 2005, I did tons of research about adoption, both domestic and international. I requested enough information packets from agencies to wallpaper a 2000 sq-ft house. And then I would vomit info onto Doug in warp speed speech. And then I'd repeat the process again. :) Heaven forbid we went near the mall because then I would march into the bookstore and spend a ridiculous amount of time trying to find any and all adoption books available. Unfortunately, finding an adoption book amongst the tons of maternity books is a bit like finding a needle in a haystack and just as frustrating. Then poor Doug would have to hear that rant all the way back home. You can see the buds of advocacy blooming here.

In the fall of 2004, I believe it was October, Doug and I decided to officially pursue an adoption plan. The timing was influenced by the fact that I was in my second to last semester of grad school. With the end in sight, it felt like it might finally be time to "stop living in pause" (Copyright me). We met with a lawyer, who was a family friend, and discussed a private, non-agency domestic adoption. The name of the game in that area is networking. And I thought, dude, we know lots of people. No worries. Except that by March 2005 I had had enough of waiting with no steps, no hoops to jump through. And having turned 25 in January 2005, I was now old enough to adopt internationally (25 was the minimum age at the time for all countries except China); I turned all my attention to international at this time. China would have been our first choice, but the age limit made it impossible. Our next thought was South Korea, but there is a law (?) that couples in MS cannot adopt a healthy Korean infant (special needs only). As first time parents, we could not handle that route. It didn't take much longer before I zeroed in on Guatemala, and Doug was on board once I told him (a) it was a 4-hour flight, (b) it was only one trip, and (c) it was only a 5-day trip. Sounds silly, but the traveling part of international adoption was a great source of fear for Doug. And remains to this day.

In May 2005, I graduated with my master's degree, but more importantly, we filled out our first official piece of international adoption paperwork. And we were off!

November is National Adoption Awareness Month!

I'm going to dedicate this month to telling our adoption story. Know someone who is considering adoption? Please share this site with them. Better yet, send them my contact info. I love to advocate via mentoring. It is amazingly rewarding.

Permanent Sunburn

Ok, you may be tired of this topic, but this is my outlet, so there! Just kidding. But do you know how ridiculous it is for your face to look like it is sunburned in OCTOBER?? I got up in the wee hours of the morning and the right side of my face was red and the left side of my face was BLOOD RED. I look like a complete moron.

Spraygroundesque

I'm big on visual learning. So picture a sprayground -- you know, one of those kids play areas where water shoots out of the ground in different spots on different timers. That is what my face feels like from the hot flashes. The good news, though, is that I've only had 2 meltdowns (i.e., crying with no end in site for exaggerated reasons) after 2 months of the drug. Not too shabby.

Tres

Have you ever felt a breakdown coming on? A really random, no life altering event provoking breakdown, not a deserved one? When you can feel the elephant of panic/stress/whatever it is sitting on your chest? And for awhile it's possible to act "normal" so that when you do explode it looks that much weirder like it was out of the blue?

I take my 3rd shot today. And just yesterday I was smugly telling myself how great I was doing, how normal I was feeling. And then today, elephant on the chest. Quick, somebody call and warn Doug! :)

Crystal Clear

It is now completely apparent as to why I got ma'am'd at class earlier this week.

Thanks ever so much, Elizabeth, for finding this photo op so amusing.

Don't Think About Elephants!

In my former job, I was exposed to the concept of framing your message. And I read a really cool article by an organization called the Frameworks Institute (http://www.frameworksinstitute.org/ezine7.html?searched=elephants&advsearch=oneword&highlight=ajaxSearch_highlight+ajaxSearch_highlight1) -- I hope it's ok to link to this ezine. I am of the quote your references mind frame being back in school, so I thought it necessary.

Anyhoo, I just love this little scenario, and I couldn't help but think of it yesterday while Sara and I were IM'ing. Sara had the best of intentions with her IM info. She was wailing about the calories in Double Stuff Oreos. And what should have been cautionary or even preventative info just made me go, "Oooh, Oreos sound so good right now." And I think this is an overall affliction for me with any sort of dieting. I have to think so much about what to eat and not eat (and how much to eat or not eat) that it just makes me think about it all the time! Emily, stop thinking about elephants!

How Much is that Transformer on the Endcap?

(Sing to the tune of "How much is that doggy in the window?")

Grandmommy, Elliott and I had the best day planned for yesterday. And though it did end good overall, there were a couple of derailments along the way.

We headed to Columbus to attend mass at 10:30 am. But as we were walking across the parking lot toward the church, we were stopped by a friend who told us it was almost over. HUH? It's only 10:15. Then my mom's face gets that Oh My Gosh look, and she remembers that it was moved up an hour because of some monthly picnic. Oops. So we headed on over to Wal-Mart to buy a birthday present for Elliott's friend, but more importantly so Elliott could visit the toys. And that is when the second, and major, derailment occurred. The little hard head was insistent that I hand him a transformer from a high shelf on an end cap - even though we assured him they were the same as the ones on the lower shelves. But oh no, he had to see one. So as I'm lifting it down, I DROP IT ON HIM (I am, and always have been, a huge clutz). And his eyebrow starts GUSHING blood and he is of course wailing at the top of his lungs. So I'm holding a printed recipe to his head while we search for my Mossy Oak bandaids and then finally get the wound covered. I am marching out of there -- in heels -- holding his 45+ lb self, he's wailing, Mom is pushing the buggy like a wild woman, then she was going to abandon the birthday gift. But we are right there by the checkout and there is no one in line (has that ever happened at Wal-Mart before? I think not), so I insist we go ahead and buy it. So then we get to the car and by now the pain is making him angry. So he is not so into being buckled into his carseat. And it hits me like a ton of bricks: What if someone thinks I'm abducting this child...who looks nothing like me. And that almost shattered my heart. A McDonald's happy meal and a trip to the clinic in Columbus that is open on Sundays (!!) later, no stitch was needed. Though he looks worse for the wear:

Poor baby :(

We were able to continue on with lunch at Peking, shopping for fall clothes, attending a birthday party, and even going to Country Pumpkins in Caledonia. He feels much better, see!

Corn!

Cotton!

Look, he eventually forgave me!

Later, taters!

Corn Pops Anonymous

"Hi, my name is Phillip, and I am addicted to Corn Pops."

Because acceptance is the first step.

Dang you, Lilypie!

I liked the concept of a counter for meltdowns so much that I thought I needed one to celebrate (or cry over) my breakup with Dr. Pepper. From now on, you'll be able to keep track of my drug usage/non-usage on the right side of the blog. I couldn't find a suitable pre-made counter. Poo.

I found the magical pill, but it is hard to swallow

Let's talk numbers, shall we? Well, more like I'm going to allude to numbers. I can't let the true weight numbers out of the bag. Literally the only people who know what I weigh are me, the people at the doctor's office, and one male friend who I handed a sheet to one time FORGETTING my weight was on it. We were discussing how all my other numbers were good (blood pressure, cholesterol, blood sugar) and once I had handed it to him and then remembered my weight was on it, I was like a cartoon character trying to rewind myself. And he said, "There is no way that is what you weigh." Hence why I won't share that number with you. I am glad to report that as of this morning I weigh TWELVE pounds less than I did on Feb. 12. I think from last summer that means a loss of at least FOURTEEN pounds.

So anyway, my new (short-term) goal weight is 8 lbs away. I have chosen that weight as the next goal because that is the weight that sent me running to Weight Watchers in 2003. Yes, that is correct, the 2003 freakout weight ended up going up TWENTY-TWO pounds over the following six years. Sad. So sad. But note, that is only a little over 3.5 lbs a year. You have been warned, skinny girls.

Here's how I'm going about it this time:

• Using livestrong.com to track my calories (aren't you proud, Lauren!)
• Working out on the treadmill and using my collection of various workout DVDs
• Cutting way back on Dr. Pepper
• Drinking lots more water
• Trying to cut back on sugar in general
• Eating out less, bringing my lunch more
  
• Making healthier choices overall

I mean, who knew this combination could work?! Quick, contact the media!

Fleas and Roaches and a Rat, OH MY!

I'm beginning to think our house is cursed. Similar to this time last year, we have fleas in the house, and we are going to go broke spraying the house. I believe at last count we have sprayed 4 times. And again I'll defend us by saying the entire time we lived in our first house (6 years) we never had fleas in the house. And we had 2 inside cats then too. We also have roaches, which is fairly common when you live in town. And now we have found the second dead rat -- OUTSIDE, thank goodness -- in just a few months time. I have decided the crawlspace foundation is to blame for all the vermin. And other than throwing multiple packs of rat poison in there, I have no plan of action. I guess I should budget in a full time exterminator contract.

As Erica said it best, if the locust show up next, we'll know we're in for it.

Because I'm a Goofy Goober

In order to keep my eye on the prize...

...I have installed some motivation at eye level from the treadmill.

Yes, I can hear you all laughing.

Bye Bye, Bruce Banner

Mind over matter, my ass. Meltdown #1 has occurred. Poor Doug, he just sat and watched (and grilled) as I just cried and cried and cried last night. I could not stop. Part of my brain was still functioning and knew I was being ridiculous. Unfortunately, that part was the minority party and couldn't outvote the majority. I kept thinking of ERT, who has had REAL issues to cry about this week. But that kind of logic was not heard over the crying. In fact, that small part of my brain that was still functioning normally kept thinking I really wish I had an electronic counter like Bruce Banner that would go from 33 days backwards to zero like on the newest Hulk movie. That would rock.

They are currently tearing down the former Borden factory in Starkville. Wonder if I might possibly buy the sign that used to be out front: "Days without accident: __"

Meet the Fleabags

We have so many animals now that I have to shelve and catalog them.

Priss (bottom shelf): Eight-year old spayed female. Found as a kitten by Penny's dad. I believe we got her in December 2000. She, like me, is overweight. Plus, she has saggy belly, which I like to play with. Allergic to fleas (REALLY?!?) and gets "scabbies" around her neck when they get out of hand. Liked Elliott until he became mobile. Has lived lots of her life in hiding. I am her #1. Her favorite time of day is when Elliott goes to bed, and she can come out and lounge with me.

Phillip the Female Cat (top shelf): Basic info can be obtained in previous post. Half vampire, half spider monkey. I have never had a cat that likes to bite for fun so much. Climbs the shower curtain on a regular basis. Conducts jingly ball practice in the bathtub for that true roller derby feel. Killer of roaches. Patient with Elliott as if she understands her lot in life as "his" cat. Thinks she is my baby, and likes to be held accordingly. Has found that an open Stats book is a great place to sleep. Lover of Corn Pops.

Luckily, they have found a peace together in their room (the laundry room) that Priss and CW would never have managed. Party on.

Uno, Dos

Shot #2 has been administered. You have been warned. (EVIL GRIN)

Vegas Baby!

I am super pumped about the pending destination celebration for the combined 30th birthdays of my 3 BFFs and myself. And after being on Cloud 9 all day about it, I realized, "Hey, Fattie, you could make a good push in the next few weeks and maybe feel a little better about yourself in Vegas." So I promptly looked at my calendar: 7 weeks until tentative departure. I am challenging myself to exercise MINIMALLY 5 days a week and to only treat myself to DP on Sundays. Still in negotiations with sugar, my arch enemy. Say a prayer for my motivation and time management, please!

Versatile

Capable of or adapted for turning easily from one to another of various tasks, fields of endeavor, etc.

A Tale of Two Fishermen

You may be wondering why they are facing away from the pond. Well, since Doug had abandoned us and took the cooler to keep the fish in (he doubted our abilities and moved on to another pond), Jeremiah was simply throwing his fish on the ground. I thought the dysfunctional twins were busy admiring the fish. Wrong. When William walked by, Corgan self-incriminated: "We are kicking this fish." My father's reply later was that she was going to need lots of therapy down the road. :)

Lookout, world.

Oh and I! I Will Survive!

A little Gloria Gaynor, anyone?

If I had gotten around to writing a post on Friday, it would have been something along the lines of "The Natives are Hysterical, and Not in a Good Way." Some confidential, intense work stuff coupled with being harassed about stupid stuff via IM and some other stuff that I now can't recall had me on the verge of tears and meltdown. But you know what? No tears were shed! No yelling commenced! I have reached the first challenge, and I won the immunity idol! Now if we can just eradicate the fleas, I might can keep my stuff together.

Day 22: Natives, Please Stop with the Campfires

I had a few moments this weekend where I could not get cool. The air would be on 75 (which is the lowest our air is allowed) and I'd still be hot, though it wouldn't last very long. So either the hot flashes have started, or keeping a 7-month-old child for nearly 33 hours is more exhausting than I remember.

The Rocket Pop

This silly little story is such a good snapshot into why Doug and I work. Our best times are the moments when we are laughing uncontrollably about the stupidest things no one else would think are funny. Like that time we laughed for 10 unspeakable minutes after imitating Poco's meow. But I digress.

One night in 2005 (I think, not 100% accurate on that), Doug and I headed to Columbus to watch a friend in a karaoke contest. My mom was out of town, and my dad was in his boot (source of injury escaping me right now...was it stepping off a feed bag wrong? oh well). I believe our friend made it into the top 3 that night before we headed home once we realized my poor dad was in excruciating pain. On the way home, I stopped at a gas station and sent Doug in to get me AN ICE CREAM ON A STICK. That fact is very important to remember. Doug returned with A ROCKET POP. I ABHOR rocket pops. I'm not a big fan of popsicles, sherbet or anything not dairy that is in the freezer section. And I'm not really a big fan of ice cream in a bowl. It has to be ICE CREAM ON A STICK. And I flipped The Bitch Switch. I had a fit. My dad tried to take Doug's side, which just fired me up even more. So Doug started eating the rocket pop, and doing so in a very annoying way. Slurping, "ummm, it's so good," and offering me a lick every few miles all the way back to WP. And after every time, he would giggle. It was at this point I realized he had had more to drink than I had previously realized.

The mere mention of the words rocket pop can still make us laugh.

Day 19: Both Shoes Firmly in Place

I feel like there are a few people who are waiting for the proverbial shoe to drop aka for the first super crazy Emily fit. I would like to ensure to all interested parties that I am feeling quite well even though my female parts are trying to take over the free world and the universe is mocking me. I have no idea what would make them think such a fit is coming. I mean, it's not like I've ever locked myself in a bathroom while hosting Wrestling Night and reorganized my bathroom while my friends tried to slide a Xanax under the door wrapped in cheese. Sheesh. But should that have ever happened, I would like to say that almost anyone would have freaked out that day. It was the day my baby brother reported to boot camp. Something shitty happened at work (imagine that), and a pie plate full of food exploded in my oven ABOVE the other pie plate full of food. We were also 1.5 months into adoption paperwork, and I was working two jobs. An aspirin could have put me over the edge that day. And for the record, should you like to amuse yourself at work today, Google "lupron side effects" or something to that nature and read the horrendous stories ladies have posted on webboards. And then, DOUG, thank your lucky stars that the bathroom was still standing that day.

Smells Like Freshman Year

No, the signature scent of freshman year is not vodka. It's TAR! I was walking across campus this morning and the smell smacked me in the face. And after I wanted to vomit, I thought of Sessums Hall, my honorary dorm, and my dear friends and the good times we had there. Guess the tar wasn't all bad if it can evoke good memories. I mean, it's not every freshman who needs a flashlight to go to the potty, huh, Michelle? :)

Day 17: THE NATIVES ARE REVOLTING

Mock, mock, mock. Can you hear it too? The universe is mocking me. I've been practicing all this Mind over Matter bullshit for a whole 2.5 weeks, pepping myself up for every day I continue to feel like myself and not like some monster ruled by ass-injected hormones. And then today happened. Being the frequent urinater (I'm making up words I'm so pissed), I calmly strolled into the restroom at work (for those who don't know, I am strategically right beside the bathroom; awesome) only to discover I had started my period. I'm pretty sure I have 0-1 male readers, but in case any guys are reading this I apologize for what you have blindly stumbled into. Anyhoo, I come back and do three things immediately. One, email Erica. Two, google Lupron. Three, IM HS who has also been to Crazy Town. Two out of three, and my memory from 2005 (answer to come from 1 source), say that you are not supposed to have a period while on Lupron. In fact, drugs.com states, "Lupron usually causes women to stop ovulating or having menstrual periods." Please note the word USUALLY. WTF.

Happy 9-9-09! Mock, mock, mock.

Day 16: The Natives Are Bitchy

Hey, hey, hey, wait just a minute. Give the natives a break. They are wife-bitchy, not Lupron-bitchy. Let the record show that I have never needed a medical excuse to activate The Bitch Switch. Here is a rundown of Labor Day weekend:

Friday:
Supper at LAF with Erica and kiddos and my mom. Getting there late is like being 5 shots of tequila behind everyone else. You need to have been there when the momentum reached 100, not just walk into it. Shew. Then we headed to the OHA football game. Went pretty well considering. We wisely left following the half-time show.

Saturday:
PAF! I love PAF like a loyal WP'er should. Mom, Elliott and I (Doug was at work at the Co-op) started our morning with a funnel cake (8:15ish), and E and I quickly followed it with a chicken-on-a-stick (9:30ish). PAF appetite is like no other. Gorge fest! Elliott was super whiney, and we finally called it a day around 12:30. Elliott and I went home to nap; Doug went to the MSU game. Note we haven't seen him since 7 am. I woke up from my nap with a horrendous headache which I suspect was from the overindulgence of food and sugar. Took an Ultram. Nothing. Took another one. Went to church. Head is still killing me. I couldn't even sing. And people, I LOVE to sing. God simply forgot to insert the talent. Anyhoo, we left church (Mom, Penny, the girls, E and I) and headed to Artesia for a post-dove hunt hamburger cooking. Head still hurting, so I also take an Aleve. That's right, 2 Ultrams and 1 Aleve. FINALLY sometime during Artesia I start to get a break from the headache. I'm now at like 25% headache and 75% slight buzz. At least I can function now. Doug finally arrives from the game, 12+ hours since we've last seen him.

Sunday:
The three of us head to Louisville to have lunch with Doug's family. Shea, Terry and the kids were there for the weekend. Now, even though we are "together" and at his family's house, that doesn't mean Doug hangs out with us. He still finds time to go get his game camera from the woods and assorted other activies. We leave there to head to Palo Alto for (1) Doug to dove hunt that afternoon and (2) Penny's b'day supper that night. So bye-bye Doug from 2:30 until 7 pm. And who was there to console a little boy who wanted to go? ME. Nice supper and b'day cake. I, sensing how tired and ill Elliott already was, wanted to leave at 7:45. Instead we left after 9 and boy did we pay the price.

Monday:
Doug got up and left around 7 am to go to the country and work on his box stand. There MIGHT have been a half-assed invitation to join him, but I knew better than to not let Elliott have any downtime at home before starting a new week. So on top of having Elliott by myself for another entire day, I also did dishes, laundry and cleaned the bathroom. Oh yeah, and I cooked supper.

Now I ask you, members of the female jury, wouldn't you be pissy too?

Quotable

"For I know the plans I have for you" declares the Lord "plans to prosper you, plans to give you hope and a future." ~Jeremiah 29:11

Just read this quote and thought it was pretty darn good: "Oh, my friend, it's not what they take away from you that counts. It's what you do with what you have left."

Thought this quote was fitting for the day......"I know God will not give me anything I can't handle. I just wish that He didn't trust me so much." ~Mother Teresa

Two people near and dear to my heart (shoutouts to KTV and SRe) have been struggling in their jobs for quite awhile now. In their struggles they appropriately have turned to inspiring scripture and quotes (above). I kind of hold myself up as the friend you know who survived THAT job and lived to tell the tale. But I haven't been much help or hope to them considering I stuck it out for SEVEN YEARS. I think I'm now ready to write about it.

Two things have hit me this week that made me want to write this post: the second quote above and something that happened during my volunteer work this week. I'll conquer the volunteer moment first.

When I arrived for my first exciting day at the adoption agency (!!!), my leader as I shall call him asked me if I could make a brochure. Sure, I replied, though I'm probably a little rusty. Luckily as the details unfolded it turned out that I didn't have to come up with an original design and lay it out (they had 2 brochures that it needed to be modeled after and a company who would do the actual layout). So I needed to do the copy (the text) and pick some appropriate images and inspiring quotes. By the time I left that afternoon I had a complete draft accomplished. And it occurred to me on the way home that there are a lot of things I learned to do in my previous (hated) job I mentioned a few posts back. And you know that whole "baptism by fire" thing? Most of my skills I learned that way. Stressful, yes, but also a long learning experience in a lot of different areas.

Also this week my current boss complimented me on my ability to catch small ticky details in documents. Not so much something I learned in that job as much as something that was BEAT INTO ME. ;) About the time these two things made my lightbulb go off, then that second quote above hit. And I thought, ah, that is where I went wrong.

Why, you may ask, did you stay for SEVEN YEARS? Well, for one thing, I didn't see any other options available. I was married, had a house, and couldn't just walk. Two, they paid me well. LISTEN UP, KIDS: Not only can money not buy love, it cannot buy workplace happiness. It can dull the pain for awhile, but eventually it will not be worth it. Three, I was bound and determine not to screw myself over worse in my misery. My catch phrase became, "I'm not going to jump just to jump. I'll tough it out until a real option comes along." And thank the good Lord above it finally did.

But it's not important now to focus on the details of the bad. There are, however, some lessons gleaned. There are invaluable friends I made while working there. (Are you happy now, VV? Kisses!) That can never be taken away from me. If it wasn't for those individuals, I probably would have gone over the edge. I am thankful for all of them, and even more thankful that several of them remain in my life to whatever degree possible.

Here is the kicker, though. When stuck in a bad job, you must find a way for self preservation. The friends mentioned immediately above kept me from total misery (as did my friends and family who had to listen to me vent constantly), but I lost a piece of myself. Yes, I know that sounds dramatic, but it's true. Let me repeat: I LOST A PIECE OF MYSELF. And worse, I ALLOWED that to happen. I gave up. I withdrew inside. I went from an outspoken, intelligent person to a worker bee who found it easier to follow the status quo. In retrospect, I could always tell when I lost another worker to the same affliction. These young go-getters would also go from "Let's fight!" to "Whatever, just tell me what you want." So yeah, on one hand, I was not alone. But it took a year after leaving before I climbed out of the hole and started becoming me again. A year of recovery from losing a piece of myself.

So I challenge you. Find your self preservation and stay in the tough-it-out phase, or get out. You have to find your "What is it really worth?" point. For me, happiness equaled $7000 less pay. But what I gained, friends, is invaluable.

The L Word

LICE!!! More cases of lice have been found at daycare, exactly 64 days after we found it in Elliott's hair. Now hear this, if we have to deal with this in our household again, I will be calling for some medication. I have to end this post now as I'm in the fetal position, rocking and sucking my thumb, all of which make it a little difficult to type.

I've Been on the Other Side

I returned to the sheriff's office at 7:45 this morning. This morning's dispatcher casually mentioned that there would be a $25 charge to be fingerprinted. Dang, I wish I had access to a mirror at that moment because I would have loved to see my face. First all encompassing thought is why didn't someone tell me that YESTERDAY. Next words out of my mouth, ever so bitchily: "I hope you take a check." Nope. Second instance of needing a mirror. Cash only. I muttered something about I've already been up here once, stalked out, went a couple of blocks down the street, took $25 out of my checking account, and returned. I'm not kidding you, when I got back in there I waved my crisp bills at her. Then she instructed me where to go pay and then to return to the Jail. UM, WHAT? So this time I'm not so obliging. "Will there be someone to assist me in the jail unlike last night?" And she said, "Yes, there shouldn't be anyone around there right now." I think she meant there would be no inmates out and about. And at that moment I realized exactly what female guard #2 had said last night: "They sent you up here at this time of day?" Aha, that is why they fingerprint until 3 pm. After that I suspect it conflicts with the inmates schedules. Seems my panic may have been justified.

So I walk back up that horrid ramp, precariously peering up to see if I will again be met with the site of striped pants. Free and clear. But when I reach the booth this time, he instructs me to go THROUGH THE FRONT DOOR. This door? This door right here? This door that is locked and that inmates were coming and going through last night? This door that has a note on it that no purses are allowed through it? THIS DOOR? But I went, and one guard makes me stand out of the way while he escorts a new inmate elsewhere. And I'm looking around at the phone where I suspect you get to make that one call, and I think for the second time in two days that maybe tours of this horrid place would make people think twice about committing crimes. My mind is going 90 to nothing when suddenly I think, is that Saved by the Bell I hear? Apparently one of the guards watches Saved by the Bell. Finally the man in the booth comes out, and let me say that he is a very nice man. He explained that they have a new kind of ink that works on paper but doesn't get on your clothes (shut your mouth!). I was shocked by their new technology. Granted it wasn't water and electronic prints in a sterile environment like at CIS, but at least I didn't leave looking like I'd been booked.

So friends, my fingerprints are once again on file, and I am now $25 less rich for a job that I will not get paid for. And my commitment to being a law abiding citizen has never been higher.

But I Don't Look Good in Stripes!

In 2005 Doug and I good naturedly trudged to Memphis to the CIS office to be electronically fingerprinted for our adoption paperwork. Though a government building is never the nicest, our wait there wasn't too terrible overall. That experience now seems like Buckingham Palace compared to my latest fingerprinting debacle. For my volunteer work I again have to be fingerprinted. But this time with the actual icky ink at the county sheriff's department. I headed up there this afternoon thinking it shouldn't be too bad. Mistake #1. It had occurred to me to call first, but I made sure to get there before 5. Mistake #2 not calling. To say the entrance is outdated is an understatement to end all understatements. The dispatcher instructed me to go to the jail. "UM, HUH?" But I, being a good citizen, followed her instructions without questioning, following the homemade carved wooden sign with "Jail" branded into the wood through a door into...a cavernous hallway that looked like I was under a stadium. Uh, this is weird. And when I get to the top of that hallway (yes, it was a big ramp up), what do I see but CRIMINALS RUNNING LOOSE. I'm not joking, there were 2 inmates just chillin' in the hallway, the same hallway with little ole' me. There was a large and impressive looking guard in a safety booth..IN A SAFETY BOOTH. NOT OUT IN THE HALLWAY WITH ME AND THE CRIMINALS. I practically yell to get his attention, and he has the nerve to tell me to take a seat...next to the criminal. Um, no thank you. I stood as my anxiety level reached an all time high. Did I mention that one of the criminals was casually eating a hunk of watermelon? Yeah, he was. So, I'm chillin' and here comes ANOTHER inmate through the dividing door. He just waltzed through like he had all the access in the world. Freak out coming in huge waves. Finally here comes a young, attractive officer. He bellows, "Front Door" and then he disappears to the other side. Um, did you not notice the crazy eyes or the panic, sir? Could you not assist me? Obviously not. Next up, criminal #3 waltzes back through Front Door after casually mentioning to Tank (yes, that's right, the man in the booth is named Tank) he needs through. WHAT KIND OF SECURITY IS THIS?? Poor little ole me is now noticing further down the hallway that more criminals are out and about on janitorial duty. I'm approaching needing a paper bag. I'm not sure how long all this lasted because in my mind it was ETERNITY. It was hot, dirty, and filled with criminals. Not exactly my element. Finally a second female jailer (first one didn't help enough to even get included in this story) addresses me with, "They only do that paperwork from 7-3 everyday; why did they send you up here?" I wait like 20 seconds after she disappears through Front Door, and I haughtily stomp back down the ramp hallway. When I reach the dispatcher, I very bitchily ask if it would be better if I returned tomorrow between 7 and 3.

Second attempt Wednesday morning. Report to come. If I make it out alive.

Day 8: The Natives Need a Planner

SW class: Tuesdays and Thursdays 11 am - 12:15 pm

ST class: Work on homework and quizzes during lunch hour on Mondays and Fridays

SW volunteer work: Wednesday afternoons 2-6 pm

Walking: Mondays, Tuesdays and Thursdays 6-7 pm

Bill paying: Apparently Monday morning at 6:30 am

Rest of life To Be Scheduled...

Red Light, Green Light

If you have never seen Money Talks with Chris Tucker, do yourself a favor and watch this clip: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZOF8wZg4H-4

Elliott's preschool class uses the Traffic Light approach for behavior.

• Green light: Followed directions/minded the teacher
• Yellow light: Not following all directions; getting warnings on behavior
• Red light: Received 3 or more warnings; loss of center time or time out

The moms I'm in contact with are all quite obsessed with this right now. Yes, myself included. Here's where I'm having a "HUH??" moment. Wednesday Elliott was super good for morning drop off, but was on red that day with a note about not using listening ears and being a follower of bad behavior. Yesterday, as if you couldn't guess from my post, was an awful drop off day, but he was on Green yesterday. ???. I have no idea what's going on with him. Sara has a new theory that his moods are a product of too much sugar, which is a valid thought, but one that puts me into extreme panic mode. Take away sugar? I might as well cut off my arms.

CAN Read My Pa-Pa-Pa-Poker Face

Upon entering the cinder block palace this morning, I'm pretty sure the following message was displayed on my face:

Not ready to play nice. Back off. Do not feed the bears. Keep your distance or you might lose a hand. May spew negative comments onto the nicest "good morning" wisher. Out to lunch. May not return socially. My kid is driving me to the brink.

Happy Thursday. Or its literal translation today, Here's a kick in the face free of charge!